


love is war and war is love

by soft (onlysweeter), squishy (Snowingiron)



Series: In The Stars (dark narry demigod au) [3]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, One Direction (Band), Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Begging, Half-Sibling Incest, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Seduction, Sex, Underage because Eros meets Harry at a younger age, greek mythology knows no rules and has no shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlysweeter/pseuds/soft, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowingiron/pseuds/squishy
Summary: [INTERLUDE]When Aphrodite orders Eros to talk to Harry on her behalf he is reluctant. But then Eros meets Harry and he is quite infatuated with the boy and his little game of breaking hearts. Because it reminds him of himself and he would like to keep Harry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is an INTERLUDE that wasn't quite planned but then we wrote it anyway and... ANYWAY, here it is. It takes place **before** kinda like fate and **during** the only exception/no exception. And a little before that, obviously. Harry is a little younger here. We hope you enjoy it!  <3
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Eros doesn’t want to go when Aphrodite orders him to. Whenever she wanted him to do her a favour he would wave her off and tell her to make someone else do it. Usually she leaves him be then, but not this time. This time she looks at him with tears in her eyes and says “Please. Please, talk to him for me.”

He has to admit that he likes it when others beg, even his own mother. It is close to everything he stands for, everything he craves. He is the son of war and love and you either beg for your life or for someone’s love. It is the essence of his whole being, what he feeds on and what keeps him alive.

“I will.”

*

Harry’s heart is a storm. Eros can see it vibrating in the boy’s chest who is barely a teenager and already mastered the secrets of a girl’s heart. His smile is a weapon that he uses to pry her mouth open and his tongue is what makes her yield in mere seconds. He is pretty and deadly and Eros wants him.

That is why he doesn't talk much to Harry when he appears next to his bed at night. The boy’s hand reaches for the lamp to see who it is but Eros catches his wrist in a swift motion.

“Others have wanted to look at me before. They all regretted it.”

“So ugly?” Harry sounds nervous. Everyone is nervous in the presence of a god.

“Quite the opposite I’m afraid.”

Harry doesn’t wait for more, doesn’t question the answer and instead reaches for him with both hands, touching his face like a blind man who tries to complete a puzzle. It almost makes Eros laugh, such a simple gesture that solves so many problems. So clever, not even Psyche had considered to do it this way.

“What do you want?” Harry’s voice is but a whisper.

But the words don’t leave Eros’ mouth, the request of his mother instantly forgotten when those slender and soft fingers, not yet rough from a demigod’s training, swipe over his lips and part them to feel his teeth. He can hear Harry’s breath hitch in the dark when Eros catches one of his fingers between those very teeth.

“What do you want?” Harry asks again, but Eros leaves before he can do something he might regret.

*

Next time they meet Harry is leaning against a tree with his chest pressed to it and Eros behind him so he won’t look. They do not talk as Eros’ hands open Harry’s trousers and dive in to touch the boy whose brown locks curl past his ears. He’s moaning at the lightest stroke and Eros is reminded of a young Ganymede, barely a god before he went on his knees before Eros.

“Tell me,” Eros whispers into Harry’s ear with another twist of his hand. “Tell me about that little game of yours.”

Harry whimpers, gasps and he doesn’t even try to turn around, instead he thrusts into the small circle of Eros’ hand, so sweet, so desperate, it makes the god ache for more.

“Love is easy,” Harry gasps.

“Is it now?”

“And cruel. I want them to know.” Eros has never felt himself grow hard so quickly, not for a mortal, not for an immortal. “A chase, a game. I win.”

Eros plasters himself to Harry’s back, shoves him against the rough bark of the tree with a roll of his hips that makes Harry whimper. “And what do you gain from it? Except for broken hearts?”

Harry moans. “Power.”

Eros’ hands stills.  _He should be like her_ , he thinks. Like Aphrodite, so full of love.  _But he’s like me_. The kind of love that destroys and wrecks people for more than a lifetime. Eros is intrigued and when he starts to move his hand again he keeps Harry on his feet, even when he comes and his knees buckle.

*

“You still haven't told me why you come here.”

Harry tans in the sun with his eyes closed, the golden light kissing his skin and hair, making the seashells in them glow. His arms are crossed behind his head and the grass looks soft beneath him. Eros is closely bent over him, holding his breath so Harry won’t notice it. He can’t stop staring at him, this demigod who is so much like him but for different reasons. He suspects that they are also the reasons why he isn’t talking to Aphrodite. Eros doesn’t care about that anymore.

“I come here for you.”

Harry smiles a little and then opens his eyes. It’s too quick for Eros to retreat and he sees the shocked expression on Harry’s face, how he blinks and quickly moves his eyes up and down, drinking in Eros’ features. He knows he is beautiful but so is Harry. And he doesn’t react like other mortals, not like Psyche, not like anyone. Because all he does is lift a finger and dig it into Eros’ cheek with a frown before he says:

“You have an ugly mole right there.”

Eros regards him with his red eyes, bats Harry’s hand away which only makes the kid giggle before he scrambles away and to his feet, wandering back to his cabin. Eros is still lying in the grass, watching Harry go.

He wants Harry. He  _still_  wants him.

*

He watches Harry in his chase, how his fingers climb the boy’s leg. The boy is an Ares kid and Eros is oddly fascinated by his observation. Both are his brothers, yet Eros is rooting for the one with the brown curls that are tangled in the other’s hands as they passionately make out by the lake.

Harry understands something that not even Aphrodite can fully comprehend because it’s Eros dominion, his realm, his life. Love  _hurts_. It’s fever, it’s cancer, it’s the feeling of drowning when you’re not even close to water. It’s burning and drowning at the same time. The only difference is that Harry doesn’t know that it’s love. He thinks it is only lust. But he displays it with every touch and every kiss and Eros wants to teach him more of it.

“Will he talk to me?” Aphrodite asks him later. She doesn’t watch them because it’s too painful for her.

“Not yet. Soon.” But those words are empty and Eros smiles behind her back.

*

“Look at me,” Eros breathes, digging his nails into the softness of Harry’s cheeks, forcing him to turn his head back. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”

It only makes Harry whimper, but he does as he’s told and Eros thrusts deeper into him. It is ridiculous, strange, irrational. He never wanted his lovers to see him but he wants  _Harry_  to look at him because Harry sees him for who he really is. Not the beautiful, passionate and lustful side of love but the  _ugly_  one. Harry makes him feel ugly and it’s searing through his body, making the ichor in his veins boil.

“Then give me more,” Harry pouts and Eros knows what he wants, already digging sharp nails into his hips. “Yessss…”

Eros has been Harry’s first, the first to go all the way. Not this time but months ago, almost soft and lazy until Harry demanded  _rough_  and  _hard_  from him. Harry is always demanding and Eros realises that he is quite willing to give him everything.

“Open your mouth,” Eros growls in a low voice. Harry obeys immediately, parting his lips for Eros’ tongue to dive in until they are both out of breath. He fucks into Harry, one of his legs resting in the crook of Eros’ arm and they come with stars flickering behind their eyes. He is blissed out in a way he has never been before, almost forgetting his own name. But he doesn’t really forget and he always remembers that he is a god. He wonders if he could have offspring with Harry, beautiful Harry whose hair is sticking to his face, one strand caught in his mouth.

Eros doesn’t know if it’s possible for him, though he knows it’s possible for other gods, stronger gods, like his mother or Apollo. He has never craved it the way he does now, a child with green eyes instead of red. One that fights wars in the name of love and fights love in the name of war. Deadly and beautiful and Harry would be his forever. He would try. He will try.

*

There is one thing Eros wants that Harry never gives to him. He doesn’t beg. Whenever Eros tries to make Harry beg he only snorts or laughs, twisting away and out of Eros’ arms with a roll of his eyes. Not even the red and burning handprint on Harry’s bottom makes him give in. He just smirks, teases and laughs and it drives Eros insane.

“Beg,” he hisses into Harry’s ear, fingers firmly wrapped around the base of his cock so he cannot come.

But Harry just gasps, fists clenched, feet helplessly drumming against the sheets. He doesn’t beg. Instead he manages to catch Eros off guard and pushes him on his back before he climbs over him and sinks down. Eros grabs his hips with wide eyes, staring up into Harry’s wild face. He is still just a boy to the god but this boy is circling his hips with such elegance it makes Eros’ eyelids flutter. That is until they still and he frowns when Harry just keeps gazing down at him.

“Move,” Eros commands.

But all Harry does is smile, sliding his hands up Eros’ chest until they rest next to his head. Then Harry slowly lowers his head, their lips almost touching when he utters one word:

“Beg.”

*

Eros comes and goes over the years and Harry is always eager, always ready to please, even though he doesn’t give all of himself. But it’s enough for Eros. He takes it, takes Harry and let’s Harry take him. He wants to steal this boy away from the camp, wants to make him a god by his side. They would be a deadly pair and even Aphrodite would fear them, he’s sure of it.

This time he catches Harry mid-chase, on his knees behind the stables to suck off a lowly child of Apollo. He is blond, but it’s a fake blond. His eyes a dull blue with thick glasses framing them and when his mouth falls open Eros spots a row of crooked teeth.

Eros snorts and leaves. Harry should challenge himself more.

*

Something is wrong, Eros can feel it. There are bruises on Harry’s neck, though that is nothing new. Everyone jumps at a chance to nip at that skin and it’s part of Harry’s game that Eros admires. But these bruises aren’t just on his neck, they stretch down to his collarbone and he can see the imprint of crooked teeth in them. Eros frowns, remembering the boy from weeks ago that Harry had wrapped around his finger. Isn’t he finished with him yet? Perhaps a virgin who plays coy?

“Look at me,” Eros murmurs into Harry’s cheek, slowly jerking off his brother. His hair has gotten longer and his cheekbones even sharper. He is perfect now, the perfect age to become immortal, forever beautiful and like this, with Eros. 

But Harry won’t look at him. He keeps his eyes squeezed close and it takes longer for him to come. He sounds pained when he does, twisting his face as though Eros is hurting him. Properly hurting. Not the kind of hurting that makes him moan and arch his back. When they are finished Harry rises to his feet, tucking himself back in and zipping up.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours, Harry.”

He stands in front of Harry, naked chest brushing against his ugly orange camp shirt. He lifts Harry’s chin with his finger, making him finally look back.

“I don’t know.” But it feels like Harry  _does_  know, he just doesn’t want to admit it. To himself and to Eros.

For now Eros accepts it as an answer, moving down to capture those sinful lips that are always so eager to please. Only this time they barely response.

*

Harry moves his finger over Eros’ lips with a thoughtful expression. As often he prods against those lips until they part and he can touch his teeth. Teeth that Eros likes to sink into the thick meat of Harry’s thigh.

“You like my teeth?” He hums with a smirk.

“They are perfect,” Harry answers, still thoughtful.

 _And why_ , Eros wonders,  _do you sound so disappointed by that?_

*

Harry didn’t come. Eros had waited in their usual spot but he didn’t come, not even when the moon was high in the sky already. Eros goes looking for him. He doesn’t find him in his own bed in the Aphrodite cabin, so instead he looks for him in his own way. He sniffs the air for the scent of sandalwood and listens until he hears the familiar sound of a stormy heart. A heart that is beating way too fast. He frowns, turning invisible as he enters the Apollo cabin.

All he sees is Harry clinging to this ugly demigod like he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever encountered. All he sees is Harry biting at the boy’s fingers, strings of begging words falling from his mouth so easily,  _too easily_ , making Eros’ throat close up at the sight.

“Please. Please, Niall.”

“Gods Harry, shut up.”

He has never seen Harry come so fast, so hard. He has never seen him beg for a kiss like that, a kiss that is denied with another press of fingers to his mouth that sharply turn his head away before crooked teeth tear into his neck once more. Eros watches him fall asleep, watches Harry curl into the embrace of the boy who slightly shifts his head to frown at Eros.

Eros freezes. He is not supposed to see him. No one is supposed to see him, yet this demigod who makes Eros feel disgusted and angry looks straight at him. Calm. Unimpressed.

Eros flees.

*

Harry is here, in his arms, but Eros’ lips press against Harry’s cheek when he shifts his head, refusing the kiss. Eros whines and lets his lips wander across the smooth skin to his ear.

“Harry, please.” His breath trembles. “I love you.”

Harry smiles at him then, all dimples and gleam in his eyes. The kind of gleam he has during his game.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Harry settles on, fingers stroking along his neck.

“Harry.” Eros’ tremble turns into something more solid, something fierce. “Be careful of what you say next.”

Harry is still smiling though, tugging Eros in by the collar of his suit until his hot mouth is breathing against the god’s ear.

“Thank you for the chase.”

Eros closes his eyes and when he opens them again, Harry’s smell and his heart is gone.

*

Niall hovers behind a tree, watching Eros pepper Harry’s face with kisses, red eyes so focused that they don’t see anything else but the demigod in front of him. He has seen them before, has seen them kiss and Niall doesn’t understand why Harry still comes back to  _him_  afterwards. He sees Eros and sees what Harry could be. He sees Eros and sees how much they both want Harry.

And really, how can Niall compete with a god? Harry  _wants_  a god and there is one right in front of him, who would raise him to Olympus without doubt. Harry knows that Niall knows about them. He had waited for Niall to turn jealous but he isn’t jealous and that’s the truth. He is not jealous because jealous is not the right word. Possessive. He feels possessive yet he never accepted Harry’s offer to come with him to Eros, to see them, watch them. Because he doesn’t actually want to compete with Eros. All he wants is for Harry to come back to him like he always does. So each time he just kissed Harry’s neck with a smirk, right over the bruise he had left only moments ago, telling him to tell Eros not to ruin his artwork. Harry always shudders so beautifully beneath his touch.

But this time Harry had insisted for him to come along, to stay and wait and see. Niall is not sure what he’s supposed to see but soon Harry breaks away from Eros, a chipper smile on his face as he skips back to Niall. Harry pounces on him with lips already parted and Niall meets him halfway, hands grasping at the back of his shirt when they tumble backwards into a bed of flowers. Harry crunches them beneath his hands, tears them out of the way before his soiled hands settle on Niall’s cheeks again to drag him into another kiss.

“Fuck me, Niall.”

He is already hard and grinding against Niall’s thigh. Niall, who doesn’t know where exactly this is coming from, who can clearly still feel Eros’ presence only a few trees away.

(He had seen Eros in the cabin that night for the first time, red eyes and dark skin with wiry dark hair and cheekbones exactly like Harry’s. Niall had seen him, him and the war in his heart that can never end because it has to keep on going forever. A war that some call love and that yearns for the storm under Harry’s chest. It only made Niall curl fiercely around him, eyes still trained on the god in front of his bed.  _Mine_ , he had thought. And he knows Eros had thought the same.)

Niall doesn’t care about Eros. He decides that he doesn’t care about any gods at all. He only cares about Harry and that nothing can ever make them look anywhere but at each other. So he places his hand on the small of Harry’s back and rolls them over, parting his legs with his thighs before he presses down again. Niall doesn’t care about Eros, he  _doesn’t_ , he just revels in the sight of Harry and grins.

“Beg.”

And Harry does.

*

Eros cries. He can’t breathe. His heart is aching and he wants to tear it out, wants to break open his skin, his ribcage, wants to bleed over the world until it falls to chaos. You can’t truly hate something until you love it and Eros never understood it until now. He didn’t know. He is ancient but he  _didn’t know_. No one has told him it would feel like this.

He is still crying and whimpering when Aphrodite finds him, gazing at him silently. He can’t tell if it’s sympathy or indifference in her eyes. He has disobeyed her after all. But then she kneels down beside him and pulls him into her arms. He lets her, resting his face against her soft chest as she wipes away his red tears.

“My dear son,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Who knew that Harry was capable of breaking a god’s heart?

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, we appreciate all the feedback <3
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> EDIT: Reece King as Eros!
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